Sergey Yesenin — Don"t fall, my little star, keep shining

 Don"t fall, my little star, keep shining,

 Keep dropping chilly beams of light.

 There is no living heart abiding

 Up there beyond the grave-yard site.

 And from you beam you bring us summer

 And fill the fields with rye and hay

 And with a thrilling wistful clamour

 Of cranes that haven"t flown away.

 I raise my head and I can hear

 Beyond the wood across the hill

 A lovely song about the near 

 And dear homeland, such a thrill!

 The autumn, turning gold, appears

 To squeeze the juice from trees and plants;

 It"s shedding pensive leaves of tears 

 For the beloved and loving ones.

 I know, I know, the time is near,

 Through no one"s fault, with no offence,

  I, too, will rest in peace right here 

 Bneath the mournful little fence.

 The tender flame will soon die out,

 My heart will turn to dust, for worse,

 My fiends will put a stone, no doubt.

 With words of merriment, in verse.

 But, feeling grief and seeing proper,

 I"d put it in the following way:

 He loved his homeland like a toper

 Adors a bar and a buffet.